


The other side of the paradise

by xevy (orphan_account)



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood and Injury, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Farmer Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Referenced depression, War, but also king technoblade, how do you write injury, i think, oh yeah they're siblings, out of character techno, thank you oat for helping me, this was actually proof read by my friend, what is the point of tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28154994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/xevy
Summary: Their voices haunt him, the whispers of revenge sped around his head yet he didn't bulge.
Kudos: 21





	The other side of the paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Credits to Oat for helping me lol.

Fatigued eyes gazed over the pond, bold colours reflected over the water, making it swirl into a pool of burgundy and solvent orange, colours of the scorching sun beaming onto the water. Sweat trickled down his face making his hair stick on his sun-kissed structure, skin flushed from working all day in the sun, hands dirty with dirt and other grime that latched on. Wiping it off on his forearm before striding away from a day's work and onto his farm, the patter of his foot filled in the loud silencing encompassing the area in which was desolate of any human being. The iron hoe relaxed in his hands yet altered enough to be used in case of any immediate threats. Voices filled his head, ricocheting off of his mind thoughts that sped around quickly as multiple voices whispered into his ears. They whispered for the death of their enemies to be buried along with them to be dragged down towards the depths of hell alongside them. Yet, although no matter how hard the voices yelled at him, a feeling persisted deep within him, emerging as the sense of nostalgia spreads throughout his body. 

Loneliness.

The farm, once lively filled with laughter and warmth, became a void of memories left behind. His younger brother was a commodity of warfare, a child soldier shot in cold blood, never his laughter be heard again. And his elder brother, who always spoke ever so sweetly, was betrayed by his men with an unfulfilling death. The rustic wooden door faintly swayed when opened, even with minimal force. He tossed his hoe to the floor before laying his eyes on the cold porridge that sat on the wooden table alongside four empty chairs. The colours of the sky reflected on the window conveyed his mood. Swirls of space blue and hints of sunset-yellow shone through the gaps of the open window, the curtains softly blowing gently. His footsteps dragged against the hardened surface of wood towards the window where a lone chair stood. 

Left to his solitude, he never knew that the feeling of stillness and reminiscence could shake him, yet it did. Looking back on his former memories, he wished to have been able to cherish and grasp them, yet time moves on as it is an unstoppable force. The calmness of the blue seemed to reflect the aura of the house. Yet, the underlying sadness hidden away was evident. It reminded him of a coldness that envelopes you when falling into the water. The yellow reminded him of a simpler time. It made him exuberant. But if he were to look too hard or go too close, he would combust like the sun. It was just like looking back at them for too long. It would pain him, but he was used to it.

The grass swayed on the hill, dancing around, moving slowly yet delicately. The trees that reached towards the sky gave him an odd sensation, to say the least, a feeling of memories and happiness that never existed as if it were a dream. His eyes bore into the tree before finally ripping them away and focussing his attention towards the floor. His breathing and the ticking of his mind ricocheted off the room; it gave him headaches to even bother to understand the world around him. He trudged towards his bedroom, passing the other emptied bedroom halls, picture frames with the three of them hanging on the wall. A poorly drawn attempt of Techno taped pathetically to Tommy's door. It was almost ludicrous how he swore he was to protect him from any danger, how Smith used to idolize him and saw him as a hierarchy, a child blinded with innocence and hardened by war.

He still remembers every detail, only wishes he never did.

"Look at you. You look like a proper King for once and not a street rat.'' Laughter echoed through the walls, his face contorted with happiness. Techno looked at the child unamused, continuing his walk outside to the halls and into the garden, never faltering or listening. Tommy casually followed suit, golden locks that rival gold itself bounced as he skipped along with his eyes as blue as the Atlantic just looking at them memorized him. The warmth of the evening sun washed over his mind, hazing it slightly as he half-listened to the rambling of his little brother.

Oh, for how quickly it changed when war came upon their land.

“Smith, you can’t go. "You're too young and naive to join, much less command an army.” A gruff of annoyance came out. Now he had to deal with his little brother desiring to join a pointless war.

“COME ON TECHNO, OUR MEN ARE DYING SO WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING,” his eyes with determination in them, yet the fear concealed behind was evident. Smith reminded him of fire, burning ferociously and frantically devouring its path that it walked. Yet, fire is needed for forests to flourish.

Those words echoed his mind looking down at the limp body in his arm, blood seeping into his pristine white collar up shirt. His throat was slit nicely, like sliced in a way where you could see bits of the inside of his throat. His windpipe was damaged, and he struggled to breathe. He was losing blood quickly, yet all Techno could do was rummage around the area for anything that could stop the flow. Skin pale as porcelain, eyes fading out blurring he was drifting off into a dream slowly becoming unconscious. Those pale blue eyes gazing at him would forever antagonize him.

Tommy's death seemed to hit hard on both Techno and Wilbur. But of course, it took a much larger toll on Wil. Paranoia and stress seemed to have consumed his elder brother turning him into a neurotic person, a former shell of who he used to be. His death was the more gruesome one out of the two, mauled to death by dogs and betrayed by his "loyal" men. Body limp on the floor, his organs distorted on the floor, and his face beaten and bitten beyond recognition. Perhaps it was the death of both of his beloved brothers that fueled his anger to victory. Looking at their purifying bodies, he felt nothing, like an empty void that went on forever expanding limitlessly.

Once everything died down, he was crowned a king. A golden crown sat tightly on his head, the jewels costing more than any castle adorned on every side. A red, regal cape woven by the blood of God flowed lusciously with every step he took. The people sang about his stories, yet Techno never felt excitement from it. He lost more than he has won. Never lasting that long, Techno left far away from the kingdom, leaving purple hyacinths on their graves as a last reminder and a goodbye before bidding a farewell and leaving only his legacy behind. He passed by an old farm that used to be their old vacation home and went towards the life of solitude and isolation.

He jolted away from his original stop. He stared down at his blood-stained hands, looking at his own shadow, looming minaciously on the soft beige wall of his bedroom. Sometimes he could have sworn he sees his enemies crawling out with hands outreached at his throat trying to get his last breath, eyes that burned heavily with fury. Malevolent eyes burned with sleepless nights started to droop down towards the ground. His body fell towards the bed like some pathetic paper crumpled up and tossed aside. Thoughts plagued his mind as he tried to sleep, no matter how hard he tried to shut them off. But finally, his senses started to dull and shut down, falling endlessly into blank space. "Goodnight," he whispered to the shadows.

“Goodnight,” a whisper replied.


End file.
